Kelly

STANDING BEFORE MY DINING ROOM TABLE, I hold my phone up to snap a quick picture and text it to Sutton.

ME: We can finish this tonight.

Before me is the almost finished product of our second puzzle. Only two pieces are missing. They sit just outside the frame on the table, waiting to be put into place.

SUTTON: Presumptuous. Who says I'm going to your place tonight?

I chuckle as I read my girlfriend's text. Of course she's coming here after Roxy's tonight. It's the weekend. This is how we spend our weekends now.

On Fridays we endure a few hours with our family and friends at the bar where we pretty much ignore each other, covertly texting the whole time. Then she comes here, where we hibernate the whole weekend or sneak away to nearby towns for secret dates.

ME: I'm saving the last piece for you, but if you're gonna be a brat, I'll just finish it off right now.

Sutton: Don't you dare!

We've settled into a bit of a routine over the past few weeks. After spending the weekend together, Sutton will go to her place on Monday to catch up on laundry. We'll spend random nights apart depending on our schedules. But I've been known to text her after a late night at work that I'm at her door. She'll zombie-walk to the door to let me in, and I'll follow her back into her dark room and crawl in beside her in bed, tucking her sleepy, warm body against me.

If I've learned one thing during my short time with this girl, it's that I can't stand sleeping without her.

I just like being with her, period.

ME: Show me what you're wearing.

What I don't like is other guys eyeing up my girl. Especially since I can't officially claim her.

I can almost feel her eye roll from here and expect resistance to my request. Instead, she sends a photo instantly.

I stare at the picture of her, blinking rapidly. I was expecting some variation of an outfit she deems appropriate but I find fault in. What I wasn't expecting was my half-naked girlfriend.

In the picture Sutton wears only a lacy bra and a pair of wide leg jeans. It takes me longer than I'd like to admit to realize her head is cropped out, leaving a faceless photo.

ME: Shit, baby girl. You forgot your shirt. And your face.

SUTTON: But how long were you distracted by my tits before you noticed I was headless?

ME: Don't worry about it.

ME: I'll be saving that pic btw. You look fucking hot. But show me what you're wearing tonight. For real.

She sends another picture. This time she's wearing a shirt, one that barely covers the cleavage I was just gawking at in the first photograph.

ME: Next.

SUTTON: You've lost all your veto rights.

Groaning, I pull at my hair while glaring at the phone as if my girlfriend can actually see it. No doubt she knows my reaction, though. I'm predictable.

ME: Pretty sure I earned them back.

SUTTON: I told you orgasms don't earn you privileges.

SUTTON: Don't be a baby. I'll have a sweater.

Thank you, Autumn, for your chilly temps and the need for a bulkier wardrobe and multiple layers to cover up my girl.

Except it's always hot at Roxy's and, inevitably, that sweater will come off.

ME: Behave tonight, baby girl.

SUTTON: Who me? I'm always a good girl.

-

I WAS RIGHT. THE SWEATER LASTED MAYBE 30 minutes. I look away for a second, and next thing I know, my girl is on the dance floor and her sweater is draped over her stool at the table—at a spot on the opposite end from me, of course.

Instead of watching her dance, which I've learned over the past few weeks is never a good idea for several reasons—my possessive jealousy high up there on the list—I fuss with the sleeves of my Henley. I yank down the sleeves only to shove them back up to my elbows seconds later.

My eyes land on the newest addition to the "ongoing" tattoo on my wrist. Sully has added a few more rows of dots. He pretty much hates me at this point since he thinks it's a waste of his time for such little work. He cusses me out each time I refuse to get the entire tattoo in one sitting.

I trace over the dots on my wrist, and I can feel the corners of my lips lifting into a smile.

I don't have a distinct reason why I'm drawing out the completion of the tattoo. A big reveal isn't my intention. The secrecy of it isn't to ramp up anticipation. I don't even have an end date in mind. I simply add another row of dots when it strikes me.

And it's not like I sat down one day and thought this through. It wasn't this premeditated thing with lots of deep intentional thought. Nope. It was simpler than that.

I wanted to take Sutton behind the scenes since she's curious about tattoos. Most of my tattoo sessions are long. I didn't want her to have to sit for hours, so I decided to go small. Then I went smaller. Maybe extending the completion of an already small tattoo is ridiculous. But I kind of like the sentimentality of it.

Like it means something.

Like it's the slow telling of a favorite story. You want to savor it.

That's what I'm doing. I guess I do have a distinct reason after all. I'm savoring it. Because it means something.

A little while later, Sutton and Vivi return to the table, their laughter momentarily disrupting the conversations. When everyone resumes their chats, I forget to pay attention. I'm locked on her. My girl. She's flushed, the apples of her cheeks the familiar rosy color I love kissing after sex.

Our eyes lock as she's lifting her hair off her neck, no doubt relishing the air flow on her skin from the exposure.

She's so fucking beautiful.

If only I could walk over there, run my nose along her exposed neck before gripping it lightly as I brush my lips over her rosy cheeks. Then seal it with a claiming kiss on her mouth, pulling her close and keeping her close.

And, yeah, I do want to claim her. But it's more than that. It's almost a physical pain having to restrain myself around her in public. It gives me this weird feeling in my chest, like heartburn, but then it travels down to my gut and settles in for the long haul. My constant companion.

The only thing that soothes it is when we're together and I'm free to touch her and kiss her and be with her.

"Is it that time, Sutton Button?" Rylie practically shouts to be heard over the loud music. It's long since passed the time of the night where the noise level is at a ten, my preferred time to leave.

"Tequila?" Sutton grins at Rylie.

I raise my brows. My girl actively ignores me. I can tell by the way she ducks her head and angles her body away.

I chuckle behind my hand, mostly to hide my amusement from Sutton. The brat.

I try to focus on the story Finn and Charlie are tag teaming, each of them interrupting the other and talking over each other. The way they always tell their stories. It's both entertaining and somewhat irritating.

I can't focus, though, and I let my gaze wander. I'm not purposely seeking her out, but I somehow find her among the people crowding around the bar.

She's so short that I probably would have missed her if the guy next to her hadn't stepped aside just as my eyes were sweeping that area, revealing her just at the right moment.

It takes me a few minutes to catch up to what I'm seeing, my attention zoomed in on her pretty face and curvy body. When I finally comprehend what I'm seeing, my whole body immediately tenses, from the curled toes in my boots all the way up to my clenched jaw. I'm stiff.

She's flirting.

Right fucking in front of me.

With the guy who stepped aside to reveal her to me moments ago. Now he's tilting his head down to hear her speak. And she's talking animatedly with her hands. He's laughing. She's laughing.

Fuck it. I pull out my phone and angrily peck a text.

ME: Pretty sure I told you to behave.

ME: That doesn't look like behaving.

I can tell the minute she receives the messages because she cranes her neck to look in this direction as she digs in her pocket for her phone. After signaling with her finger to the guy to give her a minute, she busies herself with her phone.

She stares in my direction once she hits send. No doubt trying to make a point.

ME: Look harder then.

What the fuck does that even mean? I don't have a chance to puzzle it out, though, because when I look up from my phone, I see his hand on her. He's holding her wrist, and I swear I see his thumb massaging her skin from all the way back here.

ME: I don't need binoculars to see his hands on you, baby girl.

She glances at her phone, only skimming the message on her Lock Screen, before quickly returning her attention to the guy.

She does pull her arm away from him, though, which doesn't immediately register since I'm weaving my way through the crowds of people toward them. And it isn't until I'm sidled up next to my girl that I see Vivi standing on the other side of Sutton. Was she there the whole time?

When my hand lands on Sutton's shoulder, she turns toward me. She opens her mouth to speak, but I shush her with a thumb pressed to her lips, the rest of my fingers curled around her chin and jaw.

"She isn't yours to touch," I practically growl as I slowly face the guy.

He squares off in front of me, his back straight and shoulders tall. "Does she know that?"

I encroach on his space and jab a finger into his chest. "She fucking knows it. And now you do too."

He crowds me, mimicking my move from earlier, which jams my finger deeper into his chest. "It didn't seem like she knew it."

"Kelly!" Sutton yells, tugging on my arm with both of her small hands. "Kelly, come on. Stop! Just stop it."

When I look at her, those electric blue eyes are practically cursing me. She's big mad. How can such a small person carry so much fire?

She must notice an opening, a slip in my demeanor, because she yanks my arm, and I follow her through the crowds of people. Instead of bringing me back to the table, she leads me to the exit.

She waits until we're in the shade of the trees lining the boulevard hiding us from the bright spotlights in the parking lot before she releases the anger.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she whisper-shouts at me.

"Me?" I point to myself. Why is she mad? She's the one openly flirting in front of me.

"Yeah, you!" She throws her hands up and they clunk down on her thighs. "You were an ass, Kelly. What even was that? You can't just go up to random dudes and claim me. Especially when we're supposed to be a secret."

"You were flirting with him. And you let him touch you." I cross my arms over my chest like I'm trying to contain the big feelings from bursting out. And maybe I am because I feel the anger trembling through me, aching to be released.

"Number one," she says, holding up a finger. "I most definitely was not flirting. I know you couldn't hear what I was saying clear across the bar, but what we were doing was called talking. Number two, I didn't let him do shit. He touched me. I removed his hand, which you would have seen if you hadn't wolfed out and come stomping over like a toddler throwing a tantrum."

"Any more numbers?" I ask petulantly. If she's going to call me a toddler, she'll get a toddler.

"Yeah, dipshit," she seethes, holding up a third finger. "I was trying to play wingman for Viv, but I didn't read the signs fast enough. He was interested in the wrong sister. But I was handling it before you barged in. I can handle my shit, Kelly."

"I didn't like it. Shit," I curse, running a hand through my hair. I soften my tone. "I'm sorry, Sutton. I'm an ass. I know I'm an ass. But I didn't fucking like it. And maybe you weren't flirting, but I wasn't reading him wrong. He wanted you. And he was making moves to get you."

I take her hand in mine, brushing my thumb over the soft skin on the underside of her wrist as if the action could erase his touch.

"He did this, didn't he?" I ask, caressing her wrist again. She blinks, pauses for a few seconds and then nods. "I fucking knew it."

"Why does it matter, though, Kelly? You're missing the point." She shakes her hand free, hiding it behind her back. "I wasn't flirting. I didn't ask to be touched. I didn't do anything wrong."

"I know that now." I cuss, tugging at the back of my neck. "Shit, I'm sorry, Sutton."

When I reach for her hand again, she shuffles away from me. "I think I'm going to call it a night."

I nod. "Ok. Do you want me to go in and get your stuff?"

She shakes her head. "No. I'll have Viv grab it." She pulls her phone out of her back pocket and busies herself by texting her sister. "She'll be right out."

I nod again. "You're pissed." It's a statement. An obvious one, considering she'll barely look at me and her body is practically vibrating. I clench my fists to prevent myself from reaching for her again.

"Uh..." she draws out the word and then laughs without humor. "Yeah, Kelly. My boyfriend, who's supposed to be secret, made a big, stupid public scene. Which, let's be clear, I wouldn't appreciate even if we weren't trying to hide this thing." She gestures between us, and I snag her hand, pulling her body closer to me since she's slowly been putting distance between us.

"This thing?"

She rolls her eyes. "We're not starting a fight about the logistics of our relationship right now, Kelly. I can only handle one argument at a time. And right now I'm pissed at you for being an unreasonable, jealous asshole."

"That's fair." I resist the very strong urge to pull her into my arms and kiss the mad away. Instead, I settle on intertwining our fingers. "For what it's worth, I am sorry. I know I overreacted."

"But...?" she prods. When I don't elaborate, she tacks on, "You'd still do it exactly the same way if you had a chance to redo it. Right?"

"Fuck, Sutton. I don't know. Maybe. I really fucking didn't like his hands on you."

She pulls her hand away and uses it to wave at her approaching sister. "So what you're saying is you're sorry your actions resulted in this tension between us, but not that you actually acted that way?"

Vivi slowly encroaches on our hiding spot, Sutton's forgotten sweater draped over her forearm and her purse dangling from her shoulder. "Uh...you ready?" she asks, her voice hesitant.

"Ready?" I glare at my girlfriend. "Ready for what?"

"To go home, Kelly. Viv is taking me home." She takes a few steps toward her sister, but I grab her arm, halting her movements.

"Wait, baby girl." I search her face for the answers to the questions swirling in my brain, but I see the steel in her eyes. There will be no changing her mind. "But it's the weekend." My tone is defeated. Sad.

She surprises me by reaching up on her tiptoes to place a soft kiss on my cheek. "I just need a minute," she whispers before falling back onto her feet.

A minute? More like a whole fucking night. But I don't say that. Instead, I watch my girl walk away with her sister.

-

BACK AT MY HOUSE, THE UNFINISHED PUZZLE taunts me. I'm tempted to snap in the two remaining pieces, complete the puzzle, but I realize I'm being petty. Sutton has every right to be angry with me.

Would I change my actions if I could? Sutton's question swirls around in my brain. She's probably right. I most likely would act the same again and again, which doesn't resolve anything.

Lexi stands from her bed in the living room, stretches her old body and slowly makes her way over to me. Half-heartedly, she butts her head against my hand. She's probably mad at me, too. After all, Sutton is her favorite person and it's my fault she isn't here.

My house feels bigger and emptier than usual. The quiet so loud it's almost deafening.

I wander aimlessly from room to room. Nothing in the kitchen tempts me, yet I pour a glass of water, setting it aside before taking a single sip. The living room is shadowed and uninviting. The dining room still taunts me with the unfinished puzzle. Upstairs I'm haunted with her everywhere—the smell of her on the sheets, the remnants of her morning routine littering the bathroom vanity, the sweatshirts she wore of mine discarded in the hamper.

I stomp back down the stairs and let myself outside, Lexi ambling onto the deck behind me. The motion detector lights snap on, and I curse the brightness as I mindlessly turn to the spot where the rockers used to sit before remembering I brought them over to the new house weeks ago.

Yet another reminder of her.

"Fuck it," I grumble, my voice loud in the quiet yard. Pulling out my phone, I hastily send off a text. Then when there isn't an immediate response, I send another one. Then a few more.

ME: I'm sorry, baby girl. I'm so fucking sorry.

ME: I miss you. My house feels so big without you. I don't want to be here without you.

ME: Can I come over? Just to sleep. You can still be mad at me.

ME: Please?

When a half an hour passes with no reply, I know she isn't going to answer tonight.

After ushering my dog back inside, I grab my keys and hop back into my truck. Before driving away, I send a quick message to Vivi.

ME: You awake?

Then I drive across town, park in front of Sutton's house and finally read Vivi's reply.

VIVI: Kinda.

ME: I'm outside. Will you let me in?

A few minutes later, I spot Vivi's head peeking through the front window. I hop out of my truck and stalk across the yard to the front door, and she opens it just as I reach it.

"Kelly?" She blinks at me in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"You know what."

"I don't want to be in the middle of whatever this is." She stands with her body wedged between the doorway and the semi-open door as if blocking my entry.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I don't mean to put you there. I promise not to make a habit of this. But I just need to come in. To see her. If she kicks me out, I'll leave. I promise. No drama." I hold my hands up to prove my point.

She studies me a moment before fully opening the door to me, gesturing inside. "Don't make me regret this."

"I won't. Thank you, Viv." I pat her shoulder as I walk past her and stalk off in the direction of my girlfriend's room.

I let myself inside, closing the door quietly behind me, and tiptoe toward her bed. She's curled up under the covers, only her head peeking out, all that white-blonde hair fanning out behind her on the pillow.

I waste no time undressing and then I climb under the covers beside her, pulling her body close to me. When she whimpers, eyes slowly blinking awake, I whisper, "You can still be mad at me, but please let me sleep with you. I can't sleep without you."

She tosses to her other side so she's facing away from me, and I take it as permission to spoon her, tucking her small body tight against my front. Dusting my lips over her ear, I whisper, "Sleep tight, baby girl."

And I swear I hear her sigh, her body relaxing in my hold.